Learning to live without you
by The Cornish Pixie
Summary: After Hermione's early death, Ron has a hard coping. Romione oneshot


Ron stared at the empty armchair with tired eyes. Dust was already gathering on the cushions and there was still a notebook and quill left lying on the seat, in the exact same position she had left it on the day of the accident. Not even her bloody cat had the nerve to go near that chair. A novel was still on the arm rest, a bookmark sticking out halfway through. A book she would never finish, the words never read. Characters never to be met, a plot she would never cry over, a spine that would never be damaged after she threw it across the room. He would read it one day, Ron decided, for her. A sudden realisation that she would never again explain the unfamiliar muggle words on the TV she insisted they had, felt like someone had punched Ron in the stomach. He could imagine her laughing at him, telling him his emotional capacity had been upgraded to a tablespoon. Oh what he would give to hear that high pitched giggle one last time, to hold her and tell her he loved her just once more. But he had to learn to live without her because it was too painful to try and remember. Every inch of the house they had shared haunted him. Her study door was still ajar; in her hurry to leave she hadn't closed it properly. Through the gap you could see stacks of files and parchment left hazardly on the desk alongside a cold cup of tea with a layer of mould beginning to creep over it. The walls around the house were covered in framed photos ranging from their first year at Hogwarts to their grandchildren's births. It was so hard, so damn hard to keep going when he saw her face in their children and grandchildren. He ran his hands through his greying ginger hair and closed his eyes.

The Ministry officials had said she had been so brave, if there was a higher award they could give her they would: she already had an Order of Merlin First class from the war. The end of the war was meant to show how they would be safe, the Golden Trio would never again have to carry the weight of the world on their shoulder; never again would they have to lay down their lives to protect the people they loved. But the need to save someone, to sacrifice themselves for the greater good had been forced onto them at such a young age meant it would never leave the three. Harry and Ron became Auror's, a job that burned up the adrenaline that was always simmering on the surface, waiting to explode. She didn't have that luxury though, she worked in an office, organising files and writing reports. So when the opportunity had arisen, of course she would throw herself right into the thick of it. She had stopped in Diagonal Ally on her way to work when a duel broke out. In a true war hero fashion she had recklessly dived in to save two young children stranded in the middle of the crossfire and was hit with a stray curse. Quick and painless they had said. But how long was quick? How did they know it had been painless? Questions ran around Ron's head, they kept him awake at night, blinded him during the day. Talk of a statue had been happening, a medal of honour created in her name for exceptional bravery and selflessness. But Ron couldn't help but feel bitter about it, no amount of medals and praise would bring Hermione Jean Granger, his Hermione, back from the dead.

A tinkling laugh jerked Ron out of his musings and he looked at his grandson, Maximilian who was tugging on his leg.

"Hey, what's up, Max?" Ron asked, swinging the small ginger onto his lap. He had been so proud when it was discovered Rose's red hair gene had overpowered Scorpius's blonde one, marking their children as Weasley's despite their surname.

"I beat Daddy at chess!" The five year old giggled excitedly, bouncing up and down on his knee.

Ron let out a rare smile. "Well done! Maybe one day when you're older you might beat me."

"I wanted to play Uncle Hugo but he won't leave his room," Max said sadly, leaning back against Ron's chest. Ron wrapped his arms around the boy and hugged him tight in the way he used to do with Rose and Hugo.

"I know you miss Hugo, Max, but right now he needs to be alone. He was very close to Grandma and it's hard for him to be around us, especially since your mum looks so much like her, despite the red hair." Ron explained softly.

"But Mummy isn't being sad; she isn't locked in her room!" Max protested, twisting to face Ron earnestly.

"Ah, but your mummy has your daddy to help her feel better and make sure she's okay, Hugo doesn't have anyone like that."

Max furrowed his brow and thought carefully for a few minutes, the same look of determination that would so frequently cross Hermione's face etched onto his.

"What about you? You haven't got anyone either but you're okay!" Max carried on, now standing on Ron's knee so their eyes were level.

"I have you and Alex and Rose and Hugo and Harry and Ginny and all my family to look after me."

"But Alex can't talk! And why can't your family look after Uncle Hugo too?"

Ron sighed and ruffled the hair of his grandson. "Careful now, with all those questions you'll turn into a Ravenclaw!"

Max looked horrified at the thought and frantically shook his head, hands over his ears and muttering 'no' as if it was a matter of life or death. A tall woman with frizzy red hair and a baby expertly placed on one hip, poked her head round the door frame and raised an eyebrow at her father and son.

"What did you tell him this time?" Rose Weasley asked.

"I might have suggested he would be in Ravenclaw," her father said in a scared but amused tone.

"You and James are so alike it's scary, if he didn't have black hair I would think he was your kid not Uncle Harry's!" Rose said, passing her daughter, Alexandra, over to Ron and picking up Max. She grabbed an old jewellery box from the next room and sat back down on the floor, leaning against Ron's chair. Rose had been sorting through her mother's things, it had been three weeks since the funeral and they had all agreed it was time. She carefully flipped open the lid and pulled out a simple silver chain with two coins threaded onto it.

"What's this?" She asked, holding it up for Ron to see. He plucked it from her hand and examined the delicate necklace. A sad smile crossed his face and he leant back in his chair, nostalgia flowing through his veins like a drug.

"You've heard of the rhyme: 'Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a silver sickle in your shoe,' right?"

Rose nodded eagerly and crossed her legs, desperate for the rest of the story.

"Well muggles say 'a silver sixpence in your shoe' instead and your mother decided that at our wedding she wanted to keep hold of muggle roots as well as embracing the magic traditions. So, she had a sickle in one shoe and a sixpence in the other. The sixpence was her grandmothers and the sickle was made on the day we got engaged so obviously she wanted to keep them after the wedding. With the utmost precision and that little crinkle she would get in her forehead when concentrating, your mother made a hole in each coin and threaded them through this chain. She wore it every year on our wedding anniversary." He said, his scarred thumb tracing over the date engraved onto the sickle. Scorpius leaned against the door and observed the scene. His wife was looking up at Ron with nothing but pure love on her face, one or two stray tears falling down her cheeks. His son, Maximilian was tracing patterns in the carpet, evidently bored. Little Alexandra was tucked into Ron's chest, his free hand cradling her head and body at the same time. It pained him that Alex wouldn't remember her grandmother, the person who suggested they picked elaborate names that were acceptable for the Malfoy half of their inheritance but could be shortened into something modern and simple so they wouldn't stick out in the enormous Weasley clan. A noise behind him made Scorpius jump; he turned to see Hugo Weasley standing in the hallway, deep violet bags hanging under his eyes and deathly pale skin. His orange hair was sticking all over the place and he was still wearing the same suit he had worn to the funeral, though where it once hugged his muscular frame it now hang off his skeletal thin body. Max caught sight of him and hurled his body at his uncle, hugging him tightly.

"Hi buddy, how you doing?" Hugo said with a hoarse voice. Max grinned up at him before pulling him towards a chessboard. Ron smiled as the pair began a game and Rose and Scorpius chatted quietly. Although things were bad and their family would never be the same again, things were getting better. He picked up the book from Hermione's armchair and opened it onto the first page. As he was drawn into the chapter, letter by letter, Ron could hear her voice reading the words and could almost feel her delicate hand in his shoulder. In that moment, it felt that maybe things could be okay.


End file.
